


Consequences

by Yaoi_Scribe



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 05:33:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7495815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yaoi_Scribe/pseuds/Yaoi_Scribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Szayel overworks himself and Grimmjow intervenes things go strangely sideways in all the best sorts of ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

_Disclaimer: The plot is mine and the characters are borrowed in this work of fan-made fiction off of which no money is made._

_Author’s note: Bleach is an anime that I adore and so I felt like trying my hand at fanfiction. Warnings include yaoi, some dub-con elements, and Grimmjow because he’s a warning all his own._

_Summary: Szayel Aporro Granz gets a little too involved with his work. A week straight of holing himself up sends Grimmjow to him. And the Sexta is not pleased at all…_

*~*~*

_Consequences (Part One of Two)_

He was so tired; amber eyes barely remain open as fingers push strands of pink hair from his face. Almost done. He just needed a few more minutes and then…

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” The sharp reprimand has his head snapping up as he’d look towards the door.

“I…”

“You are a goddamn idiot!”

Despite his state and the vast difference in their abilities, he still bites back, “This does not concern you, Grimmjow, so kindly remove yourself!” The nerve of the blue haired Espada to just waltz right in and…

His mind has little time to register movement and in his exhaustion clarity is slower to pick up on things so it takes several seconds to realize when he has been lifted from his seated position and tossed over the other’s shoulder. “Wh-what the hell? Put me down!”

“Be quiet or I’ll give you something to whine about!” comes the growled warning. Obviously the Sexta was pissed and that never ended well for the target of his displeasure. Unfortunately, Szayel was too tired to think things through all the way.

“I demand that you put me down right now or so help me…” Whatever else he would have added is abruptly interrupted by a sharp, stinging pain drawing a ragged breath from him. It takes his overworked mind several seconds for the truth to sink in. Grimmjow had just struck him like a disobedient child. Him! Fury fills him and his fingers dig into the male’s back. “Get your filthy hands off me right now!”

“Apparently, you ain’t listening properly so I’m gonna repeat myself just one more time: shut up and stop fighting with me or you are gonna have far more to regret then merely trying to work your stupid ass to the ground!”

Szayel’s eyes narrow at this derision filling him. “You are clearly deranged if you think that I will ever do as you ask especially when you are acting like such a brute. Now put me down, Jaegerjaquez. This instant!”

Of course, he is suitably ignored which in a more stable state would come as no surprise to Szayel. In his current condition, however, that he ends up carried like a sack only to be deposited on a bed is unforgivable. “What is the meaning of this, Sexta?!”

“Shut up!” Grimmjow snarls, “I ain’t the moron in trouble here!” This is followed by the male climbing atop the bed so that he’s over the other. “The hell were you thinking, idiot?! Even you need a break every once in awhile! You are not indestructible no matter what delusions you have to the opposite!”

Szayel is seriously wondering if he has managed to actually lose his mind as he blinks slowly at the other. There was absolutely no way this was possible otherwise. “I fail to understand how a few hours makes you…”

A harsh laugh escapes the other. “A few fucking hours? Do you think I’d give a fuck…You idiot, you’ve been in there for a goddamn week straight!”

Oh. Well, that might explain the wrath. He’d lost track of time it seemed. “I was busy! Unlike you brainless idiots, my time is used on pursuits that doesn’t involve brawling all hours of the day!”

“Brainless idiot? Do I need to point out you’ve spent a week not taking care of yourself? Tch, idiot. You’d be only goddamn Espada who would kill himself like that!”

Grimmjow’s ire would be amusing were he not so damn close to him. Szayel hated his personal space invaded without his permission. “Whatever your personal issues is with me do you mind getting off? I do not appreciate the closeness.”

“Aww, do I make you nervous, Granz?” Tired or not, he was not dealing with this male’s penchant for civil disobedience rivaled by none. However, before he can do anything resembling a response, Grimmjow continues with, “And really, it doesn’t matter what you say for two reasons: one being that I could snap your scrawny neck without much trouble and two, you’re in my place, Octava, which means it’s my rules.”

Szayel freezes as the words register with him. He was…Confusion fills him which is clearly read by Grimmjow whose expression fills with mirth. “Oh yeah, you and I are going to have a nice…chat before you rest.”

This was bad, Szayel realizes as he stares up at the other Espada. He has a sinking suspicion that what was about to transpire was going to resemble very little an actual conversation. Grimmjow was not an eloquent speaker and greatly preferred actions which bode ill for the trapped Espada beneath him. “Grimmjow…” Whatever would have followed is unclear as the other promptly presses a bruising kiss to his mouth. It leaves him laying beneath him silent and startled.

“You finally shut up? Good.” Grimmjow grins as he says this; flashing teeth and entirely too much deviant glee. Szayel suspects this is going to go several ways of wrong. The problem is that his body has decided it doesn’t know how to respond to his desire to buck the arrogant brute off of him.

When he sees the nails lengthen, however, it is enough to incite a deep sense of panic in him. “Wh-what do you think you are doing?!!” There is no verbal answer just the sound of ripping fabric that sounds too loud in his ears and the pressure of sharp nails ghosting over the skin it was revealing.

Syazel wisely stays still undesiring of those nails to mark his skin though the fact that the other was shredding his clothing didn’t please him. He’d just gotten to the point where even strong emotions no longer helped. He’d way overdone it. And was paying for it.

Grimmjow seems to enjoy shredding the material; blue eyes taking a manic glint, and Szayel isn’t sure how well this actually ends. But he remains still striving not to let the air brushing over his skin unnerve him. Except it did.

Then a new problem arises when his wrists are grabbed and shoved above his head followed by a growled, “Move ‘'em from there and I take ‘em off.” He swallows thickly sure his eyes are wide as the start of panic sets in but he presses his fingers into the sheets and manages a minute nod to show he heard the demand. All the while his normally eloquent vocabulary is reduced to an internal hiss of, ‘Goddammit!’ And that was just as bothersome to him; this vulgarity shouldn’t be his. The fault lied with the arrogant bastard who was eying him intently blue eyes raking his figure hungrily.

He wants to icily demand if he liked what he saw but he fears anything attempted spoken would escape as some choked mess and he refused to sound like he was unnerved to the Sexta even though he was sure Grimmjow knew the sort of effect he was having on him. So instead, he releases his death-grip on the sheets enough to cross his wrists and tilt his head away closing his eyes. ‘Just pretend you’re elsewhere and you can get through…whatever he has planned. Don’t give him the satisfaction of your eyes.’

‘Foolish Octava.’ That was Grimmjow’s bemused thought as he watches him turn his head and close his eyes. ‘Do you really think I don’t know you’re afraid? That you’ve been afraid since I barged in on you? Ah, Granz, give a predator more credit.’ But then he supposed it was the one shield he had to hide behind and he’d not disillusion him this time. Besides half of what he was sure the other feared wasn’t what he planned. But he was sure that Szayel would need to figure that out on his own. Until then, Grimmjow was more than happy to just let him keep his gaze averted. It wouldn’t remain that way for long though. That much he was positive of.

So instead, he just gazes back over him at his leisure at the expanse of skin splayed before him. It wasn’t a normal occurrence; indeed the Octava seemed to like to hide as much of himself as possible in his garments which was a shame in Grimmjow’s opinion because he looked exquisite. But he wasn’t about to tell the other this, no indeed. Retracting his nails for the moment, he parts the shredded garments to give himself more of a view of his prey. And that is exactly what he was.

Slender but fit, he was deceptively fragile in a sense with flared hips Grimmjow couldn’t wait to put imprints of his fingers into. Oh yes, Szayel Aporro Granz was a most inviting prey. And it amused him to just wait because he knew by the obvious tension that the other was preparing himself for the worst and probably trying to wait him out. He no doubt hoped that if he didn’t make a fuss or react to him that Grimmjow would leave him alone. His lips curve into a smirk as he finally decides it was time to correct him of that notion.

He reaches with his hand and curls his fingers around the others flaccid cock knowing that would certainly get his attention. And is not disappointed as amber eyes snap open and his lips part. He stares at him as he was not sure what he planned to do and he cannot resist the fanged grin as his hand moves slowly while he tightens his hold stroking. Szayel’s back arches and this gasped breath escapes which has Grimmjow repeating the actions for a repeat of that alone. “Wh-what…ahh…are…you…”

“What am I doing?”he asks bemusedly as the other couldn’t seem to get words between his panting. “I believe I’m touchin’ ya. Say ain’t you supposed to be the smart one?” The teasing insult is enough to make the other attempt to glare but Grimmjow heads it off by letting his thumb circle the head knowing exactly what that would do to him. The way his eyes widen and the sharp jerk are absolute treats but what is the icing is the tremulous whine that bubbles from the other who is clearly attempting not to let him know exactly how he was feeling. He just wasn’t that good at hiding it considering the exhaustion he’d subjected himself to.

So the Sexta continues circling the head with his thumb as the blood rushes filling the organ. The scent accompanying his shifting state has Grimmjow’s eyes going half-lidded and him grinning more. “Mmm, Granz, seems like you’re a little less nervous and far more interested in our little chat. ‘Bout time, Octava.”

“Sh-shut up,” Szayel grits out as he tries and fails to keep his hips from squirming and pressing closer as his nerves beg for more of that hot friction against them. Damn the Sexta for making him burn like this! Damn him!

But what was done was done and he was quite ready to blame it on the fact that he’d spent a week pouring over things and wasn’t at his best or most coherent which meant that his defenses were nearly non-existent. Anything was a good excuse to him other than the fact that he was wanting what the other seemed to be offering.

Szayel’s issue was that he knew it was a lie that at any second this almost gentle touch would be substituted by the violence that seemed to be their disposition. So he was trying not to get used to it because there was no way this was Grimmjow’s intention. Pain was coming. Pain always came.

He was fighting again. Grimmjow could tell by the look in his eyes and why shouldn’t he; their entire society was practically based on who could be the most ruthless. He probably expected him to hurt him. And perhaps in other moods, it might be a consideration but not now. Not with him splayed in the tatters of his clothing with the hints of arousal tinting his skin. Slowly, he leans his head down wondering if he was watching his every movement and figuring that he was. His tongue flicks out to lightly taste the leaking head. The salty-sweet taste entices him though it’s the sharp jerk and the gasped whine that draws a low approving purr from his throat. Oh yes, he was definitely going to enjoy this.

What in the…Szayel struggles to get his mind to wrap around what the other Espada was doing. And then he repeats it again in order to get the same reaction from him, blue eyes full of a smug glee that he’d rather like to strike off his face but is well aware how badly that might end considering his earlier threat. And to be honest, the Octave is sure that it’s more promise than threat. Of course, it’s hard to focus too much on that as the licking goes from being light and experimental to long and firm strokes that has him squirming and arching as his breath hitches and his worries become inconsequential to the pleasure flooding his senses. That his legs splay open inviting him to take what he wants isn’t any easier considering the fact that being vulnerable with the other is not how he desires to be.

The licks lengthen trailing base to tip and it was hard not to get lost in the pleasure that sparks his nerves because it wasn’t something that he was used to; not something any of them truly appreciated. Violence and pain were what they tended to dole out; it seemed their nature to do so. This, however, was an addiction all it’s own because of it’s sweetness. “Grimm…a-ahh…d-don’t….don’t…stop…please…” The strangled, choked plea displeases him because it gave the Sexta far too much power and control but it was an unavoidable capitulataion in Szayel Apporo’s mind considering the state he was in.

Strangely enough, the pleas earn him far more from Grimmjow than he was expecting and the moist heat that slides over him has his eyes widening probably comically as his breathing hitches violently. He’d just…The damned malle had just…

And he couldn’t wrap his mind around the others actions. There was no way that this was truly happening because for the other to do such a thing…No, he really had worked himself into a right state to be contemplating Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez with his mouth around him. Had to be.

Except…it was really happening. Fingers dig into fabric above his head as he shifts and makes these embarrassingly needy sounds as the other just wreaks havoc on his senses. And it rises the heat coiling in his stomach to an almost unbearable ache before the bastard withdraws, looking even more pleased with himself at the sound of dismay that escapes him. “Uh uh,”he remarks bemusedly, “Did you forget that this was a punishment, Octava?”

It had escaped him for a moment or two apparently but did the brute really expect anything else considering his state?! However, he knew that he was at fault as well because he should not have lost sight of that fact himself. And it’s followed by the nasty voice that warned him this was where it went sideways. Grimmjow had him all but willing to let him do what he wanted; there was no better opening to strike.

And Szayel had fallen right into it without much resistance. How utterly idiotic of him. He lets his eyes close as he strives to regain some control while silently telling himself that everything was fine, that he would be fine. Nothing was going to go so wrong that he couldn’t get through it.

Except that wasn’t always the case when it came to them. Sometimes letting one’s guard down would lead to death if the fool was lucky. Worse if not. And Szayel prided himself on never being in that category. Until now and he wasn’t sure he wanted to end up in that category of those who learned this lesson in a most fatal way.

“Suppose you might have garbled something to that extent,”he finally says to just fill the silence, “but it’s hard to tell with you.”

“Oh, so you’re a comedian now? That’s funny considering you’re the one splayed across my bed.”

Szayel opens his eyes striving to give him an unimpressed look. “Oh, did you think I was actually interested in what you wanted? My apologies for the miscommunication, Sexta.” He makes the title an insult dripping with as much sarcastic venom as his state would allow considering the heat still roiling through him wanting an outlet. And if the other wasn’t going to finish him one way, he’d take violence as an acceptable outlet.

Much to his surprise, Grimmjow chuckles in response. “For someone who thinks he’s so brilliant you can be most naive, Granz.”

“Don’t patronize me, Jaegerjaquez,” come his warning, “Do that at your own peril, Sexta, but know it does not end well at all.”

“Oh, I’m sure in some circumstances it certainly hasn’t but that doesn’t mean I am afraid of you or what you are capable of. I’m two spots higher, Octava, and more than that I’m pretty sure I know all your tricks by now.”

The desire to correct him is something Szayel has to struggle with himself to quiet. It would do no good to give him any further ways to overpower him. Let him think that if he wanted to because the pink-haired Espada had every intention of proving him wrong in the future so it wouldn’t do to slip up. So instead, he shifts slightly and strives for a bored expression as he asks, “So, are we almost done here so I can go and actually sleep? As you pointed out earlier; I am in desperate need of rest. And no matter what lies others spew; your company is not at all conducive to anything positive.”

The smile he gets in return is positively patronizing. “That so? Hate to disillusion you but we’re far from done as you are going to find out.”

Of course they were; because this whole situation was growing absurd to him. Deciding that he’d had enough of being played with he releases the fabric and abruptly sits up bringing him closer to the other “I am busy, Grimmjow and I do not, do not, have time for your games today. I don’t know who sent you or why and frankly, I don’t care either way. I’ve tolerated your lewd indiscretion long enough. Get out of my personal space and find someone else to harass because I am beyond done with you.”

There is a moment where he is sure that Grimmjow had not expected him to be this defiant. It’s quickly masked by a cocky smirk before the other reaches and presses his nails against his chest. “That so? You just…think you have the ability to walk out of here without my say-so?”

He could feel the pressure of the others nails and knows that they could sharpen at any moment and pierce into him with a lot of damage if the other so desired. However, that is not enough of a concern of his and he finds himself reaching for his wrist before taking hold and shoving with all the strength he could muster.

And it comes as enough of a shock to send him backwards enough for Szayel to get to his feet and make a dash for the door. Practically naked or not there was no way he was going to stay in there a moment longer.

Knowing the place as well as he does, he manages to navigate to his own quarters without running into anyone making sure to lock the door for good measure. Taking a deep breathe, he pulls the tattered outfit and stalks for the shower intent on getting clean and relieving the heat started by the other. He was going to make the other sorry for even thing to do such a thing to him! He steps in and turns the water on letting the heat unwind the tension the other had risen in him. Closing his eyes, he lets out a soft sigh before letting his hand drop down to encircle hot skin. It elicits a low approving sound from between his lips. Now this was familiar and it was safe because he certainly wasn’t a threat to him.

And safe was something that was in small supply in a place like this.

He’d take his time and savor the hot water as long as he could along with the satisfaction that a few orgasms bring. Feeling limp and worn-out, he finally gets out and goes to his bed draping himself onto the bed damp and naked and uncaring about that as he lets himself fade off onto the sleep his body desperately needed.

And he’s too deeply asleep to see the lock turn before the door would open and a shape would slip in before closing and relocking the door before resting against the wall, arms-crossed and mouth curved into a fanged smirk that meant nothing but trouble. ‘Rest up,’ Grimmjow thinks bemusedly, ‘Because you are going to need it for what I’m going to do to you.’


	2. Part Two

_Disclaimer: Plot is mine and the characters are borrowed in this work of fan-made fiction in which no money is made._

_Author’s note: Continuation in which Grimmjow finishes his discussion with Szayel. Many of the same warnings as the previous part also to now include very NSFW content and m/m sex. So be warned that this is definitely not for anyone who doesn’t like graphic smut._

_Summary: Szayel Aporro Granz learns that he really does not want to ever put himself into the position where he cannot adequately protect himself._

_Or perhaps the worst part of all of this is that he does want to if it brings what Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez does to him again. And it’s a most dangerous thing; this want._

_*~*~*~*_

_Consequences  *Grimmjow x Szayel* Part Two of Two_

He wakes up feeling refreshed and better than he had previously. Stretching, he slides his fingers along his sheets letting out a low groan of pleasure. “Glad to see that you feel better, Granz.”

The voice has him freezing because he was extremely sure that his door was locked before he’d went to unwind. Except there against his wall was the same Espada he’d been trying to avoid giving him a saucy smile. And it’s a moment later that he realizes that he was still quite naked.  It is instinctual; the want to jerk covering over him and hide himself from view limiting his own vulnerability. However, he felt like that was a surrender in it’s own way and forces himself to sit up and level a glare at the interloper. “I do believe that you are trespassing, Jaegerjaquez.”

“Maybe,” comes the simple reply before the other adds, “but you did leave before we were finished our conversation, Granz.”

“No,” he answers, “No, I am quite sure we were all finished what was necessary to say. Now, take yourself out of my rooms.”

Grimmjow tilts his head a moment before he drawls, “Did you forget which one of us is stronger here, Octava?”

Szayel’s lips purse as he was well aware of the difference in their abilities. There was no need for him to point it out. “Get out, Grimmjow. Right now.” It was getting increasing hard to remain calm with his nudity as the other Espada didn’t seem to have any intention of doing as he was told. And then he was  moving. It takes only a fraction of a second before Szayel finds himself sprawled backwards with the male’s knees on either side of his hips and fingers around his throat; loose pressure that warned him at any second the other could cut off his air-supply if he so chose. It makes him go still as he stares at him.

“You have a really bad habit of mouthing off. And other Espadas might let you get away with it but I have no patience for it. At all. So do yourself a favor and shut up. Yesterday.”

He wants to say something just to spite him but realizes that it would cost far more than he could afford to lose so he does as the other commands deciding that it would be far more productive to wait for a more opportune time to get the other out of his space. After all, he had always prided himself on getting the slip on his enemies. All he had to do was wait for an opportunity to arise for it.

He just hates that he’s once again naked before the other. Though at least he can think rationally. It was a small victory and he’d hold onto it as long as he could. Of course when he remains silent the fingers release as the other sits back to stare at him again.

And it is another struggle to keep the snide commentary he’d wanted to voice previously from escaping. But seriously, what had he not seen the night before? And he’d be far more worried about the sudden wide, leering grin before the other Espada would abruptly shift off of him. There is no time for him to be relieved before he finds himself rolled over and the firm pressure of a hand against the small of his back holding him there.

Panic hits him then making him still as all his internal alarms go off and he prays the other is not about to do what he fears he is. “Sexta…Grimmjow…”

“Be silent,” comes the growled command, “And do not move from this position without command or permission. You won’t like what happens if you do.” The problem with all of that was that he is pretty sure he’s more afraid of what the other might do with him where he was.

Asserting one’s dominance was commonplace among them and it could get downright bloody depending on which of them was doing it. Nnoitra for one seemed to have a sick fascination with how much he could hurt someone and more often than not, Szayel had found himself on the end of the others nonexistent mercy. He’d just  hoped better from the Sexta who had shown at least not to lower himself to things if it wasn’t necessary. However, the Octava knew better than to resist and stays still. He just hates that this is happening in one of the places that should be safe for him.

The pressure disappears and Szayel struggles to remain still telling himself silently that he could get through this. It wasn’t impossible and it certainly wasn’t the first time. When the other takes a hold of his hips, it’s harder as he wants to tense up and jerk away but manages just barely to obey what he’d been commanded to do. The other shifts him upwards and he allows it.

Squeezing his eyes shut feeling tears forming, he finds himself desperate for an interruption, anything to stop this and is hardly aware that he’s started shaking. ‘No, no. Please, not this. Please…not from…’ And his thoughts would come to a screeching halt as he’d jerk violently as a sharp sound escapes him. His eyes snap open wide. What…what had Grimmjow just…done?! His frazzled mind could not wrap around the Sexta’s actions. Which of course has the male repeating it with much the same response; fingers cupping his hips to open him further so that the invading tongue slides in deeper with the second lick. It hitches the Octava’s breathing sharply as he struggles to wrap his mind around what he was doing.

By the fifth deep lick, he is no longer shaking and his tension has all but drained leaving him to pant and whine helplessly before the other who responds by continuing until each stroke of his tongue has him arching and gripping his sheets. “G-Grimmjow…oh…oh gods…don’t…stop…f-fuck…a-ahhh…”

Szayel had expected him to hurt him. It had been written over his actions from his first interruption and while Grimmjow could believe it was commonplace where the pink-haired Espada was concerned it had never been a tactic he felt worked well. Pain was something a Hollow grew used to; came to expect. But this, this he wasn’t sure how to fight against it and better than that was the fact that he couldn’t. Grimmjow can’t help chuckling at the others choked pleas. Damn but this was entertaining as hell. He lightly shifts his fingers higher up on the male’s sides just to drag them down as he shoves his tongue into the clamping opening he was teasing and the shaky whined sound has his blood pooling low in his stomach and a low, appreciative growl rumbles low in his chest. Oh yes, this was so much a better way to do things.

And of course, he pulls away long before the other is satisfied, sitting up and smirking at the dismayed sound. “Should not forget that this is a punishment, Granz,” he remarks bemusedly.

“Th-then g-get to the point and get out,” comes the gritted hiss from the other Arrancar, “I-I’ve things to do, J-Jaegerjaquez.”

“Mmm, not right now you don’t and certainly not until I’m good and ready to let ya.”

He was amazingly quick to get stubborn, Grimmjow notes as he feels him tense and sees his jaw tighten. Obviously he was attempting to compartmentalize the situation so that he could ignore him. So, he moves again to roll him to his back letting his fingers curl loosely around the male’s swollen cock. “You’re not runnin’ from me that easily, Octava,” he murmurs tightening just enough before stroking making the other let out a whine as his hips buck sharply. “Yer mine for the day and we do things at my pace.”

Hating the Sexta comes easily with how tumultuous Szayel’s emotions are becoming. And if he didn’t remove his hand then it was going to be detached from his goddamn body in a minute because Szayel was not dealing with the light, teasing touches that he had no defense against. So he reaches and grips the others wrist. Tightly. “L-let go…right now, Grimmjow, or so help me I’m removing both your goddamn arms and feeding you to a Hollow.” He’d rather his tone not be the breathy, raspy thing it was but it couldn’t be helped at the moment. Damned teasing bastard needed to get his body parts away from him. Yesterday.

Grimmjow’s answer is to bring his thumb to the head of his cock and press down before moving in a circle making Szayel jerk and struggle to bite back a moan while his grip weakens. “You don’t want that,” the other notes in a smug tone, “I can tell you don’t.”

“You’re not about to give me what I want so remove yourself!” he manages when he can force himself to actually speak clearly. He tightens his grip again this time pressing his nails against the others skin. “I will not tell you again to leave me alone and vacate my quarters, Sexta.”

The other just repeats his early motion with his thumb and Szayel bites his  lip enough to draw blood to keep his vocalizations silent even as his body squirms closer in desire. He had to manage to get the upperhand here because if he didn’t…

Well, he didn’t want to know how badly that would end. So, he focuses on the stinging pain in his lip as he forces the others hand open before bringing a foot up and catching him in the chest before shoving him backwards with all the strength he can muster. This does, and primarily without thinking, he utilizes a sonido to vacate his room and bolts for his lab uncaring if he managed to hurt the other.

Behind the sturdier door which he locks and shoves a bookcase in front of just for the hell of it, he stumbles to his desk on shaky legs. That he is naked is not his first concern beyond the fact that he was hot and shaking and so goddamn desperate thanks to Grimmjow.

He was going to end the goddamn Sexta and save them all the trouble of dealing with him. Except even he knows Aizen wouldn’t allow it. Squeezing his eyes closed, he struggles to calm down, to get his rationale back. Grimmjow could not be allowed to affect him like this. He could not. That was unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable. So he takes a few steadying breaths before seeking out something to wear while telling himself that unless it was Aizen himself, he was not opening that door.

Finding only a robe, he draws it around his frame and slumps into a chair. Dammit, how the hell was he supposed to deal with things if he was getting hounded by that bastard? Surely he had better things to do then make Szayel’s day hell. And cue the pounding on the door to teach him better. Settling himself, he decides that the male could pound on the door until judgement day because he was not going anywhere near it. He should have made sure that he’d suitably locked the door this way the last time but he’d been too into what he was doing to do so. Not this time.

Except sitting in the silence alleviates very little what the other had started in him. Closing his eyes, he slides a hand beneath the fabric to circle hot skin and finds that it’s not the same. Shivering and panting, he hates that it’s not enough and certainly not what his body seemed to want. A hiss escapes from between his lips as he loathes how acutely the other has made his nerves crave his touch. Well, a little frustration never hurt anyone. So withdrawing his hand he’d force himself to pick up where he’d been interrupted. Work should do well enough as a distraction.

Three hours. Three hours is all it takes for his skin to be so hyper-sensitive that he cannot stand it and no matter how many times he repeats that Grimmjow won’t do as he wants even if he finds him it’s no longer a choice at all. Opening the door finds the hall empty not that he thought he’d be lurking there. Slowly, he walks barefooted wondering if he’d finally cracked all the way because this was beyond insane.

Taking the back hallways so as to not have anyone notice, he’d end up at the others doors sure that he’d gone off somewhere and that it would be a waste of his time. And still, he knocks on the door. He was such an idiot for this. Such a…

The door swings open and Grimmjow doesn’t seem too surprised to see him there. “Well, look who it is. Decided to come out of hiding?”

“Stop it,” the words escape before he can seem to help himself, “I don’t know who the hell you think you are but stop it right now. Hurt me if it pleases you or whatever but stop…Stop this!” Because this desperation was something Szayel could live without. The need for the other to touch him again, to take, to make him feel that good was absolutely the last thing he knew how to deal with.

“Can’t handle a little playing with, Granz? I would think as much as you bait everyone you’d learn sooner or later what one might do in return.”

“I’ve never done this to another!” he snaps furious though unsure if it was directed at Grimmjow or himself for getting to this point, “Goddamn you, Jaegerjaquez just…” His demand is interrupted by the other reaching and jerking him into the room and then shoving him backwards against the door shutting it and closing them in the Sexta’s room again. A hard swallow follows before he finally whispers, “Please…Sexta…Grimmjow, just…please…” How utterly humiliating that he was begging the other like this and he was sure the blue-haired Arrancar was going to lord this over him. ‘I shouldn’t have come here and I certainly shouldn’t be begging him for…’

Grimmjow doesn’t let his inner condemnation finish before leaning and pressing a bruising, claiming kiss to his mouth which has him nearly going limp against the door he was pressed to. The other releasing with a sharp nip has him struggling to focus through half-lidded eyes which have turned molten gold in the wake of what was coursing through him. He clearly reads the amusement and pleasure in the others blue orbs. “Gotta hand it to you for bein’ too goddamn easy to rile up, Octava.”

He was amused by him and somehow that just makes him feel infinitely worse though all his senses are attuned to other desires. He was just sure the shame was going to be horrific come his senses returning. How utterly ridiculous that he would be reduced to this and by Grimmjow of all people. It was intolerable.

And yet, if it would get the other to stop talking and finish this, he’d accept that. And perhaps that was worst of all in this. “S-stop pointing out the obvious. E-even someone with your limited capacity for thought can tell this. Do something more constructive would you?”

“Why would I do as you demand, hmm? You’ve done nothing but disobey. I don’t see why I should make this easy on you.”

“I’m here, in your goddamn rooms practically throwing myself at you. It should thrill you!” he retorts bitterly, “You think I like this?! I don’t even like you for that matter!”

At this the other chuckles before reaching into his robe to curl his fingers back around him. “Poor Octava cannot manage to help himself. How tragic…” He’d follow this with a slow stroke making Szayel groan and shift with the touch. “Yer so fuckin’ desperate for me ain’t ya?”

What the hell had he been thinking coming here again? This thought occurs to him at the others snide remark but even it elicits only heat through him and he wants to just blame it on the slow moving friction at his groin. “Grimmjow…just…” Just what? Fuck him? He didn’t dare beg for that did he? Because at that point, he was sure this warmth, this heat would turn to something cold and painful. Because in the end, sex usually ended that way. Even though the rational part of his mind knew that it wasn’t sex at all he couldn’t make himself truly believe that. “…just do whatever it is you want and let me go about my business, Sexta.” That was better, he decides. Let him choose how to respond to that because he refused to be the reason he ends up sore and bleeding.

The other chuckles bemusedly. “Do what I want, huh? I don’t think that’s what you want, Octava. Try again and tell me what you desire of me. Beg me, Granz.”

Dammit, he would not! The other could harass and tease him all he wanted but Szayel refused to grant him everything. He had no intention of…And the bastard starts with the damned thumb that he plans on removing at the next opportune moment and his head hits the door as he whines low in his throat. “C’mon,” the other nearly purrs grinning at him knowingly, “Let me hear ya plea for it.”

His fingers dig into the wood of the door as he struggles with the desires flooding him with the side of him that wants to. It would not end well and he knew it. He just couldn’t seem to get the rest of him to agree with it. “G-go to hell, J-Jaegerjaquez.”

“I’m not the one feelin’ like I’m boiling in my skin at the moment. Think that’s you actually.” The quip has Szayel wanting to punch him but he cannot seem to get his fingers to release the door at the moment. Another rub of his thumb and Szayel jerks sharply. “Beg me, Granz.”

He wants to refuse, wants to tell him that he could go proposition Nnoitra for all the good it would do. Except he can’t; the words are too stuck in his throat as that heat just threatens to burn him alive. And that’s worse; that the other has so deftly made him need it that he’d return to him. Wasn’t that plea enough that he dared come to his domain in the first place? Really, did the other need him to grovel more than this?! “N-never…d-do you h-hear me?! I. Will. Never. Beg. You!”

His response should infuriate the other which is what he was going for; because an angry and violent Grimmjow he knew how to handle. Any angry Arrancar was easy to handle. Except the expression that appears tells him that he was doing nothing but playing into the other’s desires. “That a challenge, Octava? Are you issuing a challenge to me?”

Oh god, he’d way misstepped and he knew it even without the question voiced in a tone of pure glee. “I…”

“Oh no,” comes the others response as he reaches and pulls him away from the door, “You just issued a challenge, Granz. You know what happens next; I answer it.”

Without letting him make anymore of an attempt to take it back, Grimmjow forces him back onto his bed. The Sexta goes a step further yanking the tie of Szayel’s robe and using it to tie his wrists above his head letting the material fall open baring him to the others gaze again. He lets his nails lengthen as he drags them down his chest lightly. “So…you’re not gonna beg me, huh? Don’t think I can make you? Well, let’s explore this a bit shall we? Wouldn’t that be your way of handling a situation; exploring all the facts?”

Szayel keeps his mouth shut because he was not falling into another trap with this man. He was not. “Gonna keep quiet then? Probably best because that mouth of yours gets you into such trouble.” Letting his nails revert to normal, he moves so that he’s straddling over his hips. “Gonna prove you so very wrong, Granz. I hope you know that. I’ll have you begging and pleading for me to take you until you don’t know your name or your goddamn rank. Shouldn’t be too difficult; your body’s all but begging for it now.”

He just closes his eyes and turns his face away from the other. Let him talk if it suited him because it wasn’t happening. He wouldn’t. Not now and not ever. All he had to do was outlast and ignore his ploy. Grimmjow got bored easily and would go onto something else if he didn’t get the entertainment he was seeking.

Ignoring him. The Octava had chosen to try and ignore him? Grimmjow almost laughs at the obvious choice. Did he honestly think he was going to just ignore him and it would be the end of it? Well, he had news for Szayel; the pink-haired Espada was greatly underestimating him which was never a good idea. Smirking, he reaches and slides his arms under the others knees to shift them upwards as he moves himself into a more proper position. He watches the others eyes snap open as his attention shifts back. “Something to say?” he inquires as he presses his legs closer to his chest to open him wider for him. The realization that fills the molten eyes amuses him as does the flush of pink across his face. Oh yes, the Octava knew exactly what he was about to do. And it just makes him want to do it more. Of course there is no answer from the other and it’s not surprising. He was probably trying to steady himself for what was coming to try and keep himself from giving voice to the want that was clearly being screamed by his body. So giving no true time for him to actually steady himself, Grimmjow leans down and plunges his tongue deep in him. And the sharp jerk and the gasped cry is absolute music to him. Oh yes, he’d make Szayel surrender everything to him.

Szayel squirms and writhes as the damned Sexta’s tongue makes a mess of his nerves. He’d mix long deep strokes of the appendage with light teasing licks and Szayel was losing his battle with a most frightening speed. His fingers grip the material of the sash wrapped around his wrists as he shifts and squirms panting and whining as the other teases and taunts him with his mouth in a most intimate manner.

And it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough to slake what had been aroused in him. And they both knew it as much as they both knew who was going to win in this. There had never been a question of ‘if” but of ‘when’. It was always a matter of ‘when’. And when happens to not be long until hot tears form and spill as need eclipses all else. Because pleasure was a weapon he wasn’t used to. “Pl-please…” he chokes out making the other still, “Grimmjow…please…” If his surrender was what the Sexta wanted then he’d finally grant him that. His eyes open; molten gold in need and shimmering with the tears. “Please…just…make it stop. Just…just…fuck me already…”

And the other would withdraw, fingers moving to lightly brush the tears away still strangely gentle which hurts worse in a way. “Please…stop…just…” ‘Stop being kind when I know you won’t be. Stop making me want this feeling to continue when I know it won’t. Just stop. Please.’ As the thoughts circle, he’s aware of the other moving seeming away from him a moment before returning. Unsure exactly what he was needing, there is a moment of shock at the feel of a finger where his tongue had been lavishing attention before it would be slid deep in him. A sharp breath escapes at the feeling of that slick digit and he finds his hips shifting and moving as he strokes along his walls before crooking just right. A flare of pleasure explodes along his nerves hard and sharp and he cries out loudly.

“There we go,” Grimmjow murmurs, “That’s the spot. Heh.” And it would be followed by another brush there that has him bucking sharply again. And it would be this nerve bundle that would be stroked and touched as Grimmjow slips a second and third finger into him. And Szayel was so lost in the pleasure that was rushing through him that he was having a hard time doing anything but moving with him.

However, he definitely notices when they are slipped from him and he feels the other move over him before a hand cups his face. “Keep your eyes on me,” he commands him and Szayel would demand to know why when he feels the other slide in filling and stretching him. His lips part as his eyes widen and a tremulous gasp escapes him. The other smirks even has his own breathing hitches. “D-damn…y-yeah, that’s it, Szayel. F-fuck…yer so goddamn tight…”

Inch by inch the other takes claim of him and Szayel has trouble computing how this feels. There is a fullness that he’s used to but this is not the usual forced pain that threatens to tear him open. The other goes still once he’s all the way in, a hand gently stroking his face; fingers wiping away the tears spilling. He doesn’t say anything and that in and of itself is a mercy merely brushes them all away before making a shallow thrust making sure to rub against that bundle of nerves with his blue eyes full of heated pleasure locked with the others molten gold watching as he falls.


End file.
